


Life Like a Movie

by NikaAnuk



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 60. AU, AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, America, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Mild Angst (?), Not really happy ending, Period-Typical Homophobia, alternative universe, some tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: It's 1963. Charles Xavier is coming back from Arizona. Nothing exciting waits for him at home, nothing excited happened at work.But on the lonely road between one city and another, it's easy to meet a stranger and fall in love, and in the middle of nowhere, no one will know...***Cherik 60s AU that happened when I said that of course I can write a story for one of the colabs (?) or pictures, or prompts. Never mind. I promised and I deliver.There were suggestions regarding changes and I tried to take them in consideration, but all the mistakes are mine.





	Life Like a Movie

**Author's Note:**

> To all the people in the Cherik Team. You are wonderful, you make me write again.

 

How long does it take before you die from the sun stroke or thirst? And when you sweat a lot, you lose water even faster. What if he can't get help in time?

 

Charles took off the suit jacket and hung it over his arm. It was unpleasantly warm. He could feel the shirt sticking to his back. If he could only take if off... He considered briefly rolling up his sleeves, but he had no protection from the sun, and it was really, really hot. He was aware that if he won't get something to protect his head, he may really get a sun stroke...

 

The worst thing was, that it was only half an hour ago when he left the car, he could still see it in the distance, blurred by the hot air. Possibly there was a bottle of water somewhere. And few steps back, he considered to return to the car to grab it, but quick maths told him, he would just waste time and energy. He had to find help.

 

The hot asphalt burned his feet in the cheap leather Oxfords. Sweat run down his face and he wiped it off with a handkerchief, that started to look very old and very used. He looked around. There was nothing there, only horizon, dotted with scrubs. Nothing that looked man-made and he knew he probably crashed in the worst place possible – in the middle of nowhere. Where Highway 80 goes through Nevada, there were parts of it, where you wouldn't meet a human for hours. The fact that he got stuck exactly in here, must have been just his bad luck.

 

Even his legs started to sweat, a weird sensation of drops running down his thighs. His shirt was stuck to his back now and he grabbed the jacket in his hand, not caring if it's going to be dirty or not.

 

Dirt was everywhere, on the ground, in the air, probably even in the sun. He rolled up his sleeves in the end and opened two top buttons. He wasn't in Rock Springs he didn't have to pretend to look perfect. As a reward there was a slight draft and he even closed his eyes, enjoying the nice cool sensation on his skin.

He was thirsty.

 

There was no sound except of his footsteps on the dirt – it was less hot here than on the asphalt – and his breathing. He knew his face will be red and shiny with sweat, but there was no one there. Just no one here.

 

For a moment he whistled. Then hummed, then sang out loud. There was no one there, why would he care?

 

“I'm pretty sure it could go worse...” he said, watching his shadow in front of him.

 

“You said it now. You said it know and you will get help from some pleasantly looking man and he will end up being a serial killer. Like in beginning of _The Cabinet of Caligari_.” The shadow responded mockingly.

 

“Yes, and I will end up with some dead body sitting in the bedroom... After Shaw discovers I'm missing, he will report it, they will finally find my car and then.... boom. I will become a subject for a film. It will become the hit for summer '64.”

 

He smiled and then shrugged. “They will have to change your profession” he said, changing his voice, so it sounded more like his fathers. “No one will want a film about a salesman. And you are too old.”

 

“I'm twenty six!” He protested.

 

“Twenty six is now new forty, darling” he replied in voice of Marlene Dietrich.

He chuckled and took few steps, swaying his hips, watching his grotesque shadow do the same.

 

“Well, you definitely have some old man sense of music” the father-like voice agreed.

 

Charles sighed and looked around. Nothing.

 

“Does this scrub looks familiar to you?” he asked his shadow. “I'm sure I've seen it before...”

 

“You are losing your mind already...”

 

“At least we can't get lost. There's is one road and one road only... I really hope they won't kill me. I can't die! I really wanted to see Elizabeth Taylor in _Cleopatra_!”

 

He rolled his eyes at himself. “Yeah, you go around, telling that to people, I'm sure they will have NOOOO idea what you are.”

 

With this he sighed and shut up, he didn't feel comfortable to discuss the subject with himself.

 

The sun seemed to be less hot but maybe it was just him, getting used to it. He looked up, the sky was so bright blue, it almost hurt.

 

“The colour of my eyes. Good, If I die, I can stare in the sky and it will look good in the film.”

 

He sometimes thought he should work in film industry. This was where he wanted to be his whole life. And he worked on some scripts in his spare time – not like he had lots of it – and he planned to send them to Warner Bros., they did make _Rebel Without a Cause_ after all...

 

“Maybe the next one will be about this random man, a nobody, who one day gets lost in the dessert and there he finds an oasis, full of liberated people, who don't care about the society rules, and live according to their needs. And there is... Their leader is a man who was once a motorcyclist but then found this place and decided he needs to protect those people...”

 

He smiled, thinking about who could play the main character. Laurence Oliver... Only he would probably never take the role. James Dean was too obvious choice...

 

At first he didn't realise what he heard. That he _heard_ something, seemed to be so unexpected, it took him few moments. There was a sound. A real, man-made sound of an engine! He stopped himself before he ran towards the top of the hill and kept walking, the tiredness and thirst forgot for the moment.

 

There, he climbed the hill and in front of him the road unrolled meeting a gas station. The small thing has been seated on the crossroads with some smaller road. And Charles was never so happy in his entire life. He could see a Coca Cola sign there, familiar red shaped add on the roof of the place. And there were people there probably. And maybe a phone...

 

He started to walk again, wiping the sweat out of his forehead. He could feel now the cool air and the water, he will drink, or maybe Coca Cola, a nice cold, sweaty bottle in his hand. He swallowed and kept himself walking steady. He could not run. That would probably kill him. And if he collapsed now, they would never find him, and he would die here. And Shaw would kill him...

 

He needed to call his boss, let him know there was some car problem and that he has been running late... He knew he will have to pay for the repair himself... Goodbye pay check. What will Shaw say? 'You are irresponsible, I don't know why I keep you. Were you daydreaming again? This is not what adults do, Charles.'

 

He sighed. They were there before. Once, when he lost whole day chatting with an old man who in his youth worked in film industry; he wasn't interested in buying new vacuum cleaner, but he gladly told his stories and Charles couldn't stop himself. The other time, he left his car in the parking lot and got caught in observing a game of baseball, only to return to the car when some young troublemakers tried to steal it. If he spent one more minute staring at the pitcher, he would lose both the car and the vacuum cleaner. And probably a job too.

 

The gas station was closer and closer now, and he felt like running. Water. People. Help. He will call Shaw. Even hearing Shaw right now would be amazing. To see a person... He clenched his fingers tighter on the damp jacket and made himself walk normally. Grown up men did not run like boys. He had to remember he was a grown up man now. On his own.

 

Staring at the Coca Cola sign, he walked towards the oasis. He could smell the gasoline, there was someone inside moving. The outside was empty.

 

On impulse Charles went to to the vending machine. “Have a Coke!” said the sign on the side. He reached to this pocket... but didn't find anything. Not even the 10 cents. Feeling the panic rising in his chest, he searched through his jacket pockets, but didn't find anything either. The strength left him with the air. He rested his forehead against the machine, feeling the hot metal again his skin. He didn't care. His money were left in the car. He was tired, hot, sweaty, dirty, thirsty and penniless...

 

The sound of money being inserted to the machine made him look up. In the piece of glass he could see a man standing behind him. The arm next to him was in dark leather jacket. He reached for the bottle and Charles took a step back, bumping against the stranger. The man took the bottle, but didn't step away. Charles turned to see him and his mouth opened. He looked like he just stepped out of a movie. Handsome in this dirty way some actors are handsome, perfect with the three days stubble and short hair.

 

The stranger handed him the bottle and it was cool, not cold, but their fingers brushed and Charles felt suddenly that he fell in love. It wouldn't be the first time.

 

“You okay?” stranger's accent oddly matched his face hovered Charles couldn't say why.

 

He nodded and looked at the bottle in his hand. He swallowed, because he really wanted to drink it. But there was still cap on it and Charles' brain forgot how to open it.

 

The man took the bottle, reached to the vending machine and opened the bottle with an opener on a string.

 

Charles raised the bottle to his lips and took a long, long sip. Cola was cold and wet and he drank almost half of the bottle, before he finally let go. He breather out and in, and looked at the man in front of him.

 

He looked like cut out of Charles' own fantasy just few minutes before – leather jacket, tattered jeans and this stubble... He looked like a king of the road.

 

He watched Charles closely, with a smile on his lips and Charles felt his staring is rude.

 

“Um... Thank you.” He said and looked at the bottle. “I... I have some money in my car... I can pay you back...”

 

The man looked around and back at Charles with a raised brow.

 

“Where is your car?” Which sounded more like 'Vere ist yur car?' and Charles finally placed the accent in the right place – Germany.

 

“I left it. Um... It broke down. So I left it and came here...” He explained. And thought it was probably really stupid, because if there was no one here. Or no gas station for ages... He shrugged remembering the way here. He would not want to do it again.

 

“You walked here?” The man asked, thought it sounded more like 'Yu valked hier'.

 

Charles nodded. “I hoped to find someone who could maybe fix my car” he admitted, feeling even more helpless.

 

“What happened?” The man asked, still standing as close as before, and Charles almost felt like he was invading his personal space. Almost.

 

“I don't know. It started to work very loudly and then just stopped?”

 

The man nodded and finally stepped away.

 

“I will have a look” he said and went to the little building next to the pumps.

 

Charles watched him for a second, and then followed. Inside was an old looking man in dirty shirt. He looked at Charles from head to toes, but Charles noticed a fan on the counter, and ignoring both of the men there, he stood in front of it, enjoying the cool air. Goosebumps covered his skin but he only closed his eyes, oblivious to the smell of the gas and the sound of the radio and the two strangers staring at him. After so much time on the sun, he just wanted to stay here, drink some more Coca Cola and never leave. This place seemed to be heaven.

 

“Let's go” the man said and Charles turned to him. He was holding a motorbike helmet.

 

Charles took it hesitantly. He was never on a motorbike before, it was something that respectable men didn't do... Especially when they wanted to keep their boring job.

 

The man walked out, he had now an army looking duffel bag with him, stained with oil and grease. Charles followed after him, the outside felt even worse now, like, stepping into a hot bath. The man walked to the side of the building where his motorbike was standing in the shadow.

 

Thanks to the name on the side Charles knew it's a Harley Davidson. But he was lost on which model.

 

The man gestured towards the seat and got on it as well.

 

Charles stopped unsure. “I never... Rode a bicycle before...”

 

The man looked at him and then smiled.

 

“What's your name?” he asked.

 

“Charles. Charles Xavier...”

 

“Charles, this is Harley-Davidson Duo Glide. Harley, this is Charles Xavier.” he said with a smile. He wasn't really making fun of him, but he seemed amused.

 

Charles took a deep breath put on the helmet and got on the motorbike behind the man. He checked behind him, there was no place to hold, so after a moment of hesitation, he moved a little closer to the man.

 

“What is your name?” he asked.

 

“Erik Lehnsherr” the man said with the same strong accent, making the words sharp at edges.

 

“Nice to meet you, I'm Charles Xavier” Charles relied and wrapped his arms around the man's waist.

 

Erik laughed and stepped on the pedal to start the engine. Charles clenched his fingers when they started. The engine sounded like Erik's accent. Very rough, very strange and somehow hot.

 

After few minutes, Charles looked to the side, on the moving fast landscape. He was pressing his cheek against Erik's back, the smell of warm leather was nice. He tried to sit straight, but immediately felt like loosing balance, so he clung to the other man. The wind was cold against his skin, he closed his eyes, enjoying the way the body felt under his hands. The muscles worked under the fabric of the cotton shirt and the machine between his legs.

 

 _That is freedom_. He thought.

 

They stopped faster than he expected they would. Seemed that he didn't crash as far away as he thought.

 

Erik pulled on the side in front of the car. He got off the bike, Charles took off the helmet first and then followed him.

 

“I don't know what happened. It just stopped.”

 

The man looked at him curiously.

 

“And you didn't check?”

 

Under his gaze Charles blushed. It seemed like he became now the out of town man who can do nothing on his own. Pretty much the right description of him.

 

“I decided it's no use...” he admitted. “I don't really know cars that well...”

 

Erik grinned at him, an enormous grin, and dropped the bag to the ground. He took off the leather jacket and opened the hood.

 

Charles lurked close, to be able to see over his shoulder. The mysterious jungle of metal parts, cylinders and more metal parts, all covered in dirt and grease, made no sense to him. But it looked like it did to Erik.

 

He started to touch various parts, uncork one and twist another. He took a cloth from his pocket and unscrew one of the caps. Some vapour escaped and he moved back, bumping against Charles who was now hovering his shoulder, curious what magic the stranger will do with his car.

 

He stepped back apologising, but Erik only checked him out – and yes, he _did_ – and grinned and returned to the engine.

 

“Looks like you just overheated” he stated finally.

 

Charles nodded, not sure if the comment regarded him or the car. He decided to go with the safe guess.

 

“Is it possible to fix it, then?” he asked.

 

Erik looked over his shoulder.

 

“It's just too hot, Charles” he said and the 'rrr' in his mouth made Charles shiver. Not only the engine was too hot, it seemed. “Once you give it some time, it will be good. You can probably drive. Very slowly, to the gas station. I will take care of it there.”

 

Charles' nodded and got into the car. He was not quite convinced the solution to his problem is that easy, but if Erik was going to still check the car later, he was okay with it.

 

The engine started, Erik closed the hood and grinned, showing 'ok' with his thumb. Charles grinned back at him and drove past him towards the gas station. Soon he heard the Duo Glide engine and looked in the rear-view mirror to see him, following on his bike.

 

Charles smiled to himself and kept glancing at him, the whole time. The man was just incredibly handsome. He should be a movie star. Charles started even write a scrip in his head for him. It would be one about a pediatrician – it's a good job, valuable for a local community, and Charles liked to work with children – who comes to this small town in Arizona.

 

The people welcome him nicely, but it changes after he meets the local 'bad boy', who's working in as a mechanic and lives on a secluded farm. They meet when man's daughter is sick, and he comes to main character's place – Charles called him James – for help. He drives him to his home on a motorbike and James falls in love immediately in this strong man who can be so delicate around his daughter...

 

He parked on the gas station, took his wallet out of the gloves compartment and checked his face in the rear-view mirror. He was dirty and sweaty, his hair were sticking in every direction. He ran his fingers through them and hoped for best, seeing that Erik got off the motorbike already and even took his bag with him, walking to the car.

 

Charles got out and smiled the brightest smile, thinking this is what James would do – be good and kind, and he would get everything best, because this is how the world worked.

 

“I will have a look at your car” Erik said, his arms in this dark golden colour of many days spent on the sun. “You can eat if you want” the 'want' sounding more like a 'vant'.

 

Charles nodded. “Can I get you something? I don't have much money, but I'd like to pay you somehow...”

 

A different picture came to his mind. A girl on a road in the middle of nowhere, police pulled her back, she asks 'can I pay you somehow else and there will be no fee?' and they have sex on his motorbike...

 

Charles shook his head and hoped he's not blushing too much.

 

“It's fine. It's not really a big problem. We just need to refill the coolant, but if you want to, I can check if the rest is okay.”

 

Charles nodded before he though about it. But then, when he considered, it made perfect sense to delay his journey here, to make sure that the car was fine, so he won't have to stop again later. It will save him time later and he won't have to get so nervous.

 

“Go and eat something, later come here.” Erik said and took the keys from him.

 

Charles went to the small building, looking back at Erik few times. The man – in the t-shirt only again – was now bending over the car, the hood shielding him from the sun.

 

This time he had a chance to have a look around the gas station. In comparison to the one he usually visited - Esso, with it's futuristic design – this one looked dirty and ugly. It was small, the food was on a display in colourful packages but they seemed to be faded from the sun. The air was hot and smelled with oil, the only source of coolness was the fan on the counter.

 

Usually there were more people working on a gas station, they would come over to see if you needed to change the oil, or wash the windows but apparently it wasn't one of those places here. The man behind the counter watched him carefully, and Charles remembered how oddly he looks.

 

“I'm sorry, is there a toilet maybe?” he asked, hoping to at least wash his face. The man nodded towards door at the end of the room and Charles went to it.

 

Inside wasn't really nice, the walls were dirty white, the washing basin was chipped here and there. He cleaned as good as he could, and feeling relieved, returned to the man to get something to eat. And water of course. He got beer for Erik and walked out to him.

 

The man was now under the car, only long legs with heavy boots sticking out. He looked a little like a Wicked Witch of the East. Charles cleared hi throat.

 

“I got you beer?” he said.

 

As if he was a jinn, Erik appeared from under the car with a grin. He reached one dirty hand towards Charles and he handed him the bottle.

 

For a moment they remained silent. Charles could imagine James and Michael – he named the other one Michael – sitting together after work, on the porch, in the sunset, enjoying cool bear, Michael's daughter playing with a huge dog in the garden.

 

That would be probably how he would like to finish the film. Not really a happily forever after but as close as possible. Both of them finding their own place in life, enjoying someone else company.

 

And in the warm evening, in Michael's bedroom, long after the daughter fell asleep, there would be kisses and moaning and sweat... He shivered and shook his head. He realised he's staring at Erik's mouth. He dropped his gaze to the pack of chips he got along with beer and water.

 

“Um... Do you want some?” he asked gesturing the pack towards Erik,but the man shook his head.

 

“So, what are you doing here?” Sounding like 'zo, vat are yu doing hier'.

 

Charles smiled. “I was in Arizona speaking at conference, I'm selling vacuum cleaners. It's nothing big, but it helps to pay bills, before I find something bigger.”

  
Sometimes he didn't really believe that he will find anything else, but here, with the man looking like from Marbolo commercial, he could make it sound positive.

 

Erik nodded. “What do you want to do?” He asked tilting his head, his fingers curled on the bottle.

 

“I want to write scripts for films. I mean, I am already. But need something groundbreaking to be noticed. Then even the older works get interest.”

 

That was a good plan, and he made it when he was seventeen. He didn't feel strong enough to break his younger self's dream. People somehow get into the films. More often than not it's sheer luck. So why not him?

 

Erik seemed impressed. “Maybe I will give you my number? And when you get in films, you can get me a role?” he asked.

 

Charles grinned. He would never ever call Erik. The man was too... Perfect, he seemed to be cut out of one of Charles' wet dreams and Charles was worried that if he called him, or if someone saw them together, they would know what Charles is. And that would be a disaster. And the man really didn't need him. With smile like this, with those arms and wide shoulders and in those jeans, he was a character from a film already. All that bathed in a golden sun. Women would faint for him.

 

“What's that?” Charles asked, pointing to a line of ink sticking from under the sleeve of his t-shit.

 

“Oh, that?” Erik pulled the sleeve higher, revealing a silhouette of a woman. “That's Marlena Dietrich” he explained.

  
The likeness to Marlena was questionable, but Charles grinned anyway.

 

“I _love_ Marlena!” he admitted enthusiastically. “She is a true star...”

 

Erik grinned and sang piece of _Lili Marleen_. Charles stared at him wide eyed, for a second sure that this is not happening, that this must be a dream. But Erik was here, very real, and he bowed his head when Charles started to clap.

 

God, he was so perfect!

 

Charles should really take the number. And maybe offer a dinner? For the help. Erik would accept of course, and they would eat together in one of the bars. Conversation initially would be stiff, but after a beer they would go to bar and have some fun, Charles would tell him about work and Erik would joke about what's going on in here. And they would start looking at each other... Longer, more needy. And finally Erik would say 'you can't drive, you were drinking' and it will mean 'stay with me' of course. So they would go to his small flat somewhere over a shop maybe the bar where they were drinking... It's nothing big, only a small apartment with bed and small kitchen. Some booze in the fridge, Erik would offer him beer maybe, but Charles would follow him into small space of kitchen, pull him and kiss him. Kiss those thin lips; tangling his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to rub against his...

 

He licked his lips and blinked awake from the daydreaming.

 

Erik was back under the car and talking, Charles 'uhm' at him, not really following the subject. He just sat there, staring at his legs and the heavy, untied boots. He sighed and drank his water. He would love to have beer, but it would probably be a bad idea in this heat.

 

Or maybe this is how James and Michael could meet for the first time... James had one beer too much, the road is empty, he is driving home... Michael pulls him aside... They talk for a moment, James tries to convince him to let him slip... and then, on the side of the road, James pins himself on Michael, when they fuck...

 

He sighed. That would never be shown on television of course... But in his own mind, these strong, slim legs looked very good with himself moving on his lap...

 

He realised that Erik was looking from under the car. He was smiling, but judging by the look on his face, he had to repeat the same question at least three times.

 

“I'm sorry, my friends. How can I help you?” he asked, smiling at him.

 

“Could you hand me the wrench?” he asked again, pointing towards the bag with tools.

 

Charles could and happily did.

 

James would make sure that their fingers touch and then Michael would look at him and there would be this silent understanding.

 

Charles only once met another man like him, it was in the evening, in small park in Chicago. He went out, hoping that someone as desperate as him, will be out on the streets, looking for a friend, but he found only a dark alley, hot breath on the back oh his neck and few strokes, that left him feel dirty. But he always believed that once two people with mutual interest meet, they will recognise each other in the crowded room. And sometimes he amused himself guessing which of the people in the bus or in the shop, were coming back home to their secret lovers.

 

There was no intimate recognition between him and Erik of course, but with Michael and James that would be different. They would know. And then, in the evening, when James would take Michael to bar to thank him for his help; their knees would touch under the table and they would end the night in bed together... But this was of course only his imagination. In real life he would never try to flirt with anyone.

 

Watching the length of Erik's legs, Charles started to wonder if he was so nicely tanned even under his clothes. At home he had two magazines for men. Both came in post, in normal brown envelope, without any markings nor the return address.

 

The men on the pictures were well build, but mostly pale, with dark hair around their cocks and down the legs and their bellies (the only exception was a young, handsome cowboy). But surely, Erik had to be tanned, he was clearly working a lot outside and – Charles could bet on that – he liked to walk around his house and backyard shirtless. Michael definitely would. And what a sight would that be...

 

“It looks okay” Erik said, getting out from under the car and wiping his hands in his trousers. He wiped his forehead against the sleeve of his shirt and looked towards the little building. “Terry is closing” he said. “It must be five.”

 

Charles smiled half hearty and got up from where he was resting on the ground. They got to an end. Nothing more will happen, maybe Charles can use him later in his scripts. Maybe he can think about him this evening... But that was it, and it made Charles sad.

 

“Thank you for your help” he said, reaching to Erik.

 

Erik accepted his hand and was this just Charles' wishful thinking, or did he held his hand a little longer?

 

If only Charles could say something that would signalise Erik what he wants. If only he could remember any poetry that was written for a man! But sadly, he couldn't remember reading anything like this. Maybe he should browse libraries and find something for his film? He could quote at the beginning something very ambiguous and that would show everyone interested what he was...

 

“Have a good journey.” Erik offered.

 

“You too.” Charles smiled and returned to the car. Erik was probably going to some bar, to his wife, or girlfriend, maybe one of those nice, pretty girls that wore short skirts and baseball player's jackets... Or maybe he had a boy at home, they rented a small, ratty apartment together. He was shorter, had amazingly blue eyes... Charles started the engine and drove away, watching Erik in the rear-view mirror. He was standing there for a moment, Charles hoped for a second that Erik regretted letting him leave.

 

The sun was now going down, the temperature was lower and Charles hummed to himself. Maybe... Maybe Erik couldn't do anything on the gas station. But after a moment he could get on his Harley and catch up with Charles. He would stop, seeing the familiar silhouette and he would get out to talk to Erik, thinking he forgot something, but then Erik would just walk to him and then kiss him. To feel his strong arms around his neck, the muscles flexing under his touch... he would run his hand through Erik's hair...

 

“I was worried you are not interested” he would whisper.

 

“I can't let you go like this”

 

“You know we can't...”

 

“It's okay. It's just for one night.”

 

Charles mouthed the words, checked the rear-view mirror. Of course the road was empty. And nothing happened. This kind of things never happened in a real life. Maybe one day, in a dream. Or in a film. But definitely not here and now. Not with Shaw and not with the car that needs a repair and not when he needs to visit his grandparents, and mother...

 

Charles sighed and relaxed his hands on the wheel, thinking about Michael and James. They would definitely have the courage to be together. James would one day go to his family, to tell them. And Michael would show up at his doorstep in the last minute, to go with him and help him, because he would never let James do something that hard on his own. He would be there for him, because James' father would never understand. Mother, even if she felt sympathetic towards her son, couldn't really show any feelings, and only the grandmother would say that things like this happened before and nothing bad happened, so it was alright and that she would fall herself for man like Michael.

 

They couldn't visit Michael's family of course, as they were long dead, which made it even more important to be on good terms with James' family, because that was the only one they had... But would it even be possible? Maybe in a big city, but not in suburbs. Charles cringed imagining his father's reaction, if Charles even suggested the subject of homosexuals at home, not mentioning what he would do if he knew about his own son...

 

He shook his head and checked the time. It was almost six o'clock. He would be home at eight, a little later than he promised but at least he didn't have to pay for the repair of the car. The radio played The Contours and Charles sang with Billy Gordon _Do you love me?!_

 

Soon however he started to drive through towns again and it was when he stopped to sing and rolled up the windows. He was now back in the old places and there was no place for fun here.

 

 

With Erik temporary out of his mind, Charles returned to his work. And it wasn't until Stonewall happened, when he thought about the desert group and their handsome leader. And then he thought that maybe that wouldn't be so impossible idea for a film to be made? A group of men who are true to their nature and they are not afraid to live outside the society... But first he had to take care of two lonely girls that were looking for a home. And soon there were even more of them. Charles never thought of himself as someone who would one day become the leader, but for those lost kids he seemed be the person he needed.

 

LLE – 03.2018

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Answering your questions - no, I don't know much about 60. I did my research but I imagine that there are still some mistakes. Please let me know if you spot anything.


End file.
